|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Feb 05, 2009 2:41 pm
This is published on Fanfiction.net; I'll post the first couple chapters here. They're short stories (drabbles, I guess?), mainly focused on Roy and Riza for the time being.
Enjoy. :)
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Feb 05, 2009 2:42 pm
I. Secret
The design of an alchemic transmutation circle was perhaps its most important part. Each drawing, each symbol, was representative of an element and a piece of nature. Each line and phrase was equally essential; the lines directed the flow of power, the phrases dictated the future of the transmutation.
The diagram of fire alchemy was fascinating, powerful.
And Professor Hawkeye knew this. He was a master of fire. He knew every detail, every significant aspect of fire alchemy. And all of his knowledge was compressed into a simple drawing. All of its information burned into his brain, drawn from his own research; he spent years and years exploring every aspect of the flame and its science, how to manipulate it, how enhance it, and how to control it.
Such a great secret could bring great destruction, and Professor Hawkeye knew this, too.
A master of flame alchemy would have in his hands the power of fire, the power to manipulate elements in the air and create benign sparks as well as menacing flames. This power was much too great for any simple man.
It was because Professor Hawkeye knew this that he decided to carve his teachings into skin. The secret of fire was burned into the sacred skin of his only daughter. It was a dermal documentation of the works of his mind. The power of destruction was carved on her back; she and only she held the possibility of creating the next Flame Alchemist.
And Riza Hawkeye knew this.
It was because Riza Hawkeye knew this that her choice was a man she trusted, a man with vision and determination; her father’s apprentice. Because she recognized the power of her back and she believed she could place it in his, she exposed the secret of fire to this man, to help him ascend the steps of military autocracy and reach his dream. She had handed him every design, every figure, every symbol, every phrase that would give life to fire.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 9:58 am
II. INRI
The snap of his fingers triggered something unholy; fire like the one surely blazing in the deepest of the depths below the earth, a place he surely knew he'd end up one day, despite the inconsistency of such thoughts to his general belief -- that there was no God, thus no Heaven nor Hell. He unleashed the fire with another snap; once, twice, three times, each one taking their toll on his body and his conscience.
His skill was impeccable.
His guilt was unbearable.
His sins were indefensible.
And his redemption was unreachable.
His fire led to the end of life, never its birth, and he played with indifference in hopeless attempts to atone. The futility of these false ideals slowly crushed his insides, from which self-loathing grew. In his eyes rested the vision of his element's arrangement, of destruction and death, and it engraved itself within the deepest corners of his mind, meant to appear at every snap of his finger, to haunt him until his demise, to accompany him to his grave.
There was no light to the memory of this horror, only a quiet whisper in the depths of his mind sufficed to calm him. A feathery voice that reached his depths, releasing words that would insufficiently give him an honest sense of relief.
"If not in our lifetime, than at least so that the future generation can."
Then, somehow, his impeccable skill was unjustified.
His unbearable guilt, overridden.
His unpardonable sins, forgiven.
And that unreachable redemption, attained.
But through that light in his darkness, through that relief in his midst of torment, the image of his teachings returned four words that tattooed themselves in his vision:
Igne Natura Renovatur Integra
Through fire, nature is reborn whole.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
